


Can't Buy Me Love

by Lywinis



Series: One Shots -- Capsicoul [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't like the idea of the auction, but Tony spent two months wearing him down with wheedling. It <i>was</i> for charity, after all. He didn't expect much out of it. It was going to be drinks, dinner, and then a ride home. Nothing big, right? Besides, he could use the break.</p>
<p>So why did he not want to be here at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Buy Me Love

_Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied_   
_Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy_   
_I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love_

_\-- The Beatles, "Can't Buy Me Love"_

* * *

 

Steve fiddled with the buttons on his jacket, straightening the sleeves. Natasha put a hand on his arm.

“Relax,” she said.

“I am relaxed,” he argued.

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I’m _adjusting_.”

“Either way, I think Pepper wants to stomp on your foot, because you’re making _her_ nervous, now.” Natasha squeezed his forearm. “Relax. It’s a charity auction. You go out for dinner with the winner, do drinks, escort them home. You could use the night out anyway.”

“I have nights out,” he argued.

“You go to the gym.”

“I just don’t think it should be forced on Valentine’s Day,” he said softly.

She fixed him with a look. “Now, adjust your tie. We’re going to mingle a bit. Sam and Rhodey are both here, you’re going to be fine. You’re not stuck with just Stark for company.”

“Why aren’t you being auctioned?” he wondered. He peered out through the curtain. “Clint’s out there, too.”

“Well, because this is a men-only auction,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. “And the last time I did, the guy tried to grab my ass on the dance floor.”

Steve winced.

They moved out onto the actual party floor, servers mingling effortlessly through the knot of guests. It was for a good cause, Steve told himself, so he bucked up and smiled, the little paper heart pinned to his lapel indicating he was one of the Avengers up for auction tonight.

All the Avengers with secret identities had bowed out, of course. Tony hadn’t forced anyone, though he’d badgered. Bruce, for obvious reasons, was sitting this out, a small plate of food in hand and Alison Blaire on his left, occasionally leaning in and whispering in his ear. It was nice to see him smile, Steve mused, and hoped Alison was in town for a while.

Carol stopped them, snickering at him. It was all in good fun, and he grinned sheepishly at her, adjusting his jacket once more. Avengers were mingling with Avengers and no one else, however, and Tony decided that wouldn’t do. He made an effort, dividing them up with a knot of hopeful donators.

Steve was plunked into a chair in the middle of the largest knot of women he’d ever seen, ranging from early twenties to the matronly widow Mrs. Bergman. (He’d pulled her from a burning building once.) It was a little like swimming with sharks, and the red construction paper heart on his lapel meant he was soaked in chum.

He did his best to be charming, but they probably already realized it was falling flat, the old awkward Steve coming to light. The serum hadn’t mutated his mannerisms, and he rubbed the back of his neck when some of the younger women went to go find Clint.

He’d probably at least be a more entertaining date.

“So tell us, Steve,” one of them said. “What do you do when you’re not wearing spandex?”

“Uh, well, it’s not really spandex,” he said, rubbing his neck. “It’s more a Kevlar thing…”

He realized he was avoiding the question.

“I patrol,” he said. “And lift weights to stay sharp.”

Interest was falling by the second, and he could feel himself starting to sweat where he normally wouldn’t.

“I, uh, draw?”

“An artist?” one of them cooed. “Sensitive, too. Well, we’re going to enjoy bidding on you.”

Steve swallowed. “I’m, uh, going to grab a drink. I’ll be right back. Excuse me.”

He made his way to the bar, and was a little more settled with a bottle of cider in hand. He turned, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Phil Coulson watching the proceedings. There was just one problem.

Phil Coulson was dead.

Steve turned his head, but the apparition didn’t disappear. He scowled and strode over, noting at least that Phil turned to look at him, eyebrows going up in appraisal before Steve seized a handful of his coat sleeve and tugged him into the back, close to the staging area where the auction would take place.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed. Phil adjusted his sleeves carefully before speaking.

“I’m on mission,” he said, as though it should be obvious. He wore no tie, and his nametag proclaimed him to be a participant in the auction. Steve sucked a breath through his teeth.

“You don’t show your face for two years,” Steve growled, his hackles up. “How do I know you’re not HYDRA, or even an LMD? Fury’s used them to great effect before.”

Phil sighed. “I would not like to have this conversation now—“

“But we’re having it,” Steve snapped. Phil shot him a censoring look, indicating the crowd behind the curtain. All it would take would be a loud outburst and Pepper would have to do damage control. Steve reigned in his temper, albeit begrudgingly.

“But as we’re having it,” Phil continued, unruffled. “There are some things you should be aware of.”

“Like what?”

“Like HYDRA is here, tonight, and are after you. I have eyes on one target, but the other hasn’t revealed themselves yet. We think they’re one of the bidders, and might try to capitalize on the above-board date to sedate and then kidnap you.” Phil gently took his sleeve back. Steve hadn’t realize he hadn’t let him go yet. “We want to keep you, and every innocent person in that room, safe. Which is why I’ve broken silence. I’ve been underground, as ordered. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make contact, but please rest assured that I will explain everything when the mission is over.”

“We went to your funeral.” It was a low blow, and Phil’s face twisted a little, as if in pain.

“My apologies, Captain Rogers,” he said softly. “It wasn’t my intention to have you mourn.”

_Maybe you shouldn’t have meant so much to us then._

Steve straightened, his mouth thinning. “You will sit down with us after this, and you will explain yourself.”

“Of course,” Phil said. He half-turned his head, listening. “I need you to do as I say.”

“Wh—“ Steve started, but Phil grabbed him, pushing him deeper into the darkness of backstage. Phil kissed him, and Steve felt the rush of heat that was anger subside into something much more pleasant. Phil coaxed the seam of his lips open, and Steve let out a quiet groan, letting him do it.

He almost didn’t notice the three servers heading for the kitchen. He opened his eyes, panting gently, as Phil pulled back.

“Apologies,” he said again. “My mark was the brunette in the middle. He’s looking for a chance to drug your drink.”

“Poison doesn’t do much, neither do drugs,” Steve said softly, his breath hitting Phil’s ear. Phil was a little flushed, but otherwise on point.

“They don’t know that,” Phil said. “And they might have something strong enough to knock you out for at least a while. Watch your drink.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “Where are you going?”

“To cull him from the herd, of course,” Phil said, smiling up at Steve. “It’s fine.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re staying here. If you tip them off, then we’ll have a bigger mess on our hands. There’s, what, a good several hundred people out there?” Phil said, indicating the chattering mass behind the curtain. “Sure, the Avengers are out there, but how many of them require prep time? Think, Steve. You’re safest where you are. I’m here to help.”

Steve’s jaw ticked. “I don’t like this.”

Phil softened a moment. “I know. Put up with it for another hour. I’ll hand this guy off to SHIELD outside, and be back in time for the bidding.”

“The…you don’t think I’m going through with this after…?”

“Steve.” Every time Phil said his name, there was a swoop in his stomach. “Do what’s necessary, just this once. We’ll make sure someone we’ve vetted has the highest bid.”

“But—“

“Look, I can argue with you, or I can get the guy I was after. Smile for the cameras, and trust us. We’ve got this.” Phil winked. “I’ll be back in time for the bidding, and you can yell at me then. Go mingle. Natasha’s been briefed, she’s spreading the word.”

With that, he was gone, and Steve frowned at the spot he’d been.

There was more chatter from the hall, and Steve turned back to join the other Avengers. The auction was beginning.

* * *

“And that’s five hundred thousand for Mister Stark!” the announcer said. “Reminder that this all goes to charities around New York, and Mister Stark himself will be matching each donation.”

The lights came back up, and another drumroll sounded. Steve shifted to his mark, well-versed in this part, at least.

“And for our last auction of the night, Steve Rogers, Captain America!”

The curtain came up, and Steve swallowed at the brightness of the light. He stepped forward, smiling, and gave a nervous wave to the crowd.

“The bidding includes a night out with the First Avenger, including dinner, dancing, and an escort home in a limo.” Steve strained to see past the stage lights, finally able to focus on the crowd. “Do I have an opening bid?”

“Twenty thousand!” Steve noted that Pepper was sallying for him. It was a nice gesture.

“Forty!” A young man in the back said.

And then they were off. The bid turned into a silent auction, paddles going up as the auctioneer called out higher and higher numbers.

“Do I hear four hundred thousand?” A paddle in the back went up. Steve strained to see, but it was too dark. He searched the crowd, and saw motion. It was Pepper, scooting over so Phil could sit down. His heart was in his throat as he locked eyes with the agent. “Do I hear four hundred twenty five?”

That was far too rich for Phil, Steve knew, but his eyes widened as the paddle went up, Phil leaning back in his seat with a cool confidence. This wasn’t normal. Had to be an act for the mark, but Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Four hundred twenty-five to the latecomer. Do I have four fifty?” The crowd was on tenterhooks, and the paddle went up in the back. Gasps were heard. “Four seventy-five?”

Phil raised his paddle again. Steve could feel his palms beginning to sweat.

“Do I hear five hundred thousand?” he asked. The motion in the back again, and Steve strained to see. Gasps echoed throughout the hall. “Five twenty-five?”

Phil’s paddle went up again, his face still smugly confident. Steve’s stomach dropped. Was Phil paying out of pocket for this? Surely SHIELD couldn’t afford this…

“Five fifty?” the auctioneer asked. The motion was repeated in the back, and Steve was sweating for real, the moisture beading on his forehead. “Five seventy-five?”

Phil’s arm lifted again.

“Six…six hundred thousand?” asked the auctioneer. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bid is currently six hundred thousand dollars. Do I hear six twenty-five?”

Phil lifted his paddle, and Steve startled at the intensity of his gaze. His eyes were locked on Steve, not on the crowd. It made him feel almost pursued, as though he wasn’t just the mission at hand.

“Six fifty?” asked the auctioneer. The person in the back, whoever they were, wasn’t giving up. “Six seventy-five?”

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. There was a flurry of whispering. Another woman in the front sallied forth.

“Six seventy-five from the young lady up front!” called the auctioneer. “Do I have seven hundred thousand?”

Phil raised his paddle, his eyes locked on Steve. Steve swallowed. That was an intense gaze, one that matched the kiss behind the stage earlier. Maybe…maybe Phil had meant what he said.

“Seven hundred thousand dollars!” Called the auctioneer. “Do I hear seven twenty-five?”

Motion from the back. “That is seven hundred twenty-five thousand dollars to charity, ladies and gentlemen, which will be matched by Stark Industries. Close to one and a half million dollars we’ve raised. Will it be going higher? Do I hear seven hundred fifty?”

Phil raised his paddle, not turning a hair.

“Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. One point five million dollars for charity, ladies and gentlemen. Do I hear seven seventy-five?” Steve strained to see. There was no motion from the back, merely sullen silence. “Going once…”

Steve swallowed, Phil’s eyes trained on him.

“Going twice…”

Pepper had hold of Phil’s arm, a white knuckled grip.

“Sold! Sir, you’ve won the auction. If Captain Rogers will step down and approach the gentleman with the winning bid?”

Steve’s knees were made of jello. The spotlight was on him, and he managed getting down the stairs okay, trailed by the puddle of light the whole way. He stopped at the aisle, and Phil stood, his smile warm and no less intense as he reached out to shake Steve’s hand.

“Captain Rogers,” he said. “Pleasure.”

“All mine, I’m afraid,” Steve said, his mouth dry.

“Have a seat, I’m making out the check now.” Phil winked at him, his manner something that made Steve’s heart do a stutterstep in his chest.

Steve sank into the chair beside Phil, leaning over. “Thank you for doing this…”

“No problem,” Phil said, scribbling the check out and signing it, tearing it off and making a big show of handing it to Pepper. “Happy to help.”

“Was…was all that out of your pocket?” Steve asked, swallowing. He felt the blood drain from his face.

“Would it matter if it was?” Phil asked, his voice smooth. “It’s worth it.”

Steve felt a little sick.

“Please don’t tell me you donated close to a million dollars to charity for me?” he asked.

“Relax,” Phil said from the corner of his mouth. “We’ll sort it out later. For now, make a show of being happy to be here.”

Steve smiled at Phil, and applause rang through the room as Tony hopped back up on stage to make his closing remarks.

“Well, with Cap being auctioned off at a quarter of a million dollars more than I was, I can’t say that wasn’t a hit to my ego,” he said, to titters around the room. “I don’t mind, though. The fossil that bought him’s gonna have to blow dust off his crotch as it is.”

The spotlight flickered onto them, and Phil raised a hand, his smile high and tight.

“He…” Steve set his jaw and made to stand.

“Pick your battles,” Phil said, clamping a hand onto his forearm. “We’re being watched.”

“That said, what a great night for charity. With the combined auctions of the Avengers, we’ve made close to two million dollars, which Stark Industries will match, with just a little bit over to make it an even five million, distributed evenly between the Avengers’ favorite charities. That, and your plate prices will go towards the food banks all across New York, which will help feed the hungry. To those of you who made additional donations, we thank you. We don’t raise the money for us, and we never have. The Avengers give back, whether in time or money. Thank you, sincerely as I can.”

Phil relaxed as the spotlight drifted back to Tony, and Steve set aside his anger for later.

“I’m going to kill him,” Pepper hissed. “If he could shut his damn mouth for ten seconds…”

Steve blinked at her. She huffed, then turned to Steve.

“The charities agreed to the auction on the clause that we never imply that these dates were anything more than dinner, drinks, a little dancing. If we implied that we were pimping out Avengers…”

“…the charities would refuse the money,” Steve finished for her.

“Exactly.” She glared at Tony, who shot her a smile. “I am going to kill my husband.”

Tony continued talking.

“That said, we’re going to get to dinner now. Auctionees, you’re welcome to sit with your winning bidders, or take your meals with your fellow Avengers. The details of the night out will be worked out at the end of the evening.”

The crowd began to disperse, though Phil stayed seated. Steve glanced at him.

“You’re free to mingle,” Phil said. “Just watch your drink.”

“Honestly, I’m wondering if I’m not the target anymore.” Steve remained where he was. Phil looked at him. “You won, after all.”

“I…” Phil thought about it, then smiled. “Care to join me for dinner, then?”

“You’ve won,” Steve said, with a smile in return. “Might as well favor the winner, right?”

“Well, then,” Phil said, rising and offering his arm. “Dinner it is, then.”

Steve took it, and the swoop in his stomach got worse.

* * *

Natasha swung by to hang out at the table for a minute or two, but then she went to go check out Clint’s date for the evening, an older lady who looked pleased as punch to have him on her arm. Steve smiled, because the lady was in the process of telling Natasha that she “hadn’t seen arms like that since the sixties.”

Phil smiled into his drink, and Steve turned back to him, his steak mostly gone now.

“So,” he said.

“So,” Phil repeated.

“This date,” Steve said.

“Not necessary,” Phil said, glancing down. “I know it’s not ideal. But as the money went to charity, I’m happy to leave it at that.”

“Now, hold on,” Steve said. “You won, fair and square. I’d like to honor my end of the deal, it’s what I signed up for. Though not for—“

“Yeah, Stark crossed a line there,” Phil agreed. “So…maybe a movie and dinner?”

“I’d like that,” Steve said, smiling. He found he really would.

“I think I would, too,” Phil said, his smile touching his eyes.

The band struck up something Steve remembered, and he glanced over to find Natasha putting her wallet back into her clutch. He shot her a look, which she returned. Phil cleared his throat.

“I think that’s our cue,” he said. He held out his hand. “Want to?”

Clint strolled by, his matronly date on his arm, strutting like a peacock.

Steve laughed, shaking his head at his teammate. He reached out and put his hand in Phil’s.

“Sure, why not?” What harm could it do?

Phil took the lead, which suited Steve fine. He hadn’t danced in forever, and honestly, the lessons he’d taken after waking up had seemed mechanical, to fill the time while he relearned what the world was.

Now, however, he moved with Phil, and the steps were organic. He was smooth, and Phil was light on his feet, taking him through the steps like he’d been born to do it. Steve gazed down at him, and Phil looked back up, the conversation ebbing from normal things as Steve realized his heartbeat was hammering, and it wasn’t because of the activity.

Phil smiled, and Steve’s reflexes were the only thing keeping him upright as the song ended.

“You…wanna go get some air?” Phil asked, indicating the balcony.

“Sure,” Steve said, and they strolled that way, grabbing drinks as they went.

The outside was a little chilly, but the balcony was closed in for the weather, and the chill was mitigated with evenly spaced heaters. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all, especially not after the heat inside.

“I should thank you again,” Steve said, sipping at his cider.

“Not at all,” Phil said, a little pink in the cheeks. “Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had on a mission in a while.”

“But…you spent all that money.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Phil said. “I promise, you’re not inconveniencing or bankrupting me.”

“I just…” Steve took another drink while he gathered his thoughts. “It must mean a lot to you, to spend that much money.”

“You’re part of the team,” Phil said. “You were in danger, and I’m here to ensure your safety.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.” Phil turned to look at him, leaning his hip on the railing. “Really, Steve, is that a hard concept for you to accept for yourself? That someone cares?”

“No, I just…” Steve smiled down at his bottle. “Maybe it is.”

“Well, I do care.” Phil finished his scotch and soda, setting the empty glass on a nearby table. “And I’m making the effort to protect you because I care.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, something warm clicking into place. “You know, I’m really looking forward to that date now.”

“Oh?” Phil asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his ears burning a little. “Yeah, I am.”

“What a shame you won’t be getting to have it,” came a voice from behind them. Steve turned, and his eyes narrowed.

“Sin,” he murmured. Phil tensed beside him, moving his hand for his weapon.

“Ah, don’t do that, Herr Coulson,” she said, her dress slinky and hugging her curves as she paced forward. “You might have stopped us momentarily, but we’ll be doing this the hard way instead of the easy way. How does it feel, _liebe,_ to have paid so much and lost out?”

“I had a feeling it was you,” Phil said, his voice tight. “What with the flunky I cuffed in the kitchen having a Sister Sin tattoo.”

Steve turned more fully, resisting the urge to yank Phil behind him. She held a Walther on the both of them, and while Steve was pretty sure he could survive a normal gun shot, there was no telling what she’d cooked up.

“I was actually enjoying your conversation,” she admitted, reaching into Phil’s jacket and pulling out his glock. She tossed it away, the firearm clattering to the shadows. “Does he know about our summer in Nicaragua?”

“You flatter yourself,” Phil said. “Mainly it was me running around breaking up drug cartels. I had a passing interest in you, less so when I found out who your dad was. Not a shotgun wedding I wanted.”

She tossed her hair. “I think you were more interested in that.”

Phil leaned in toward Steve, sotto voce. “She thinks I was, I got more action from Spanish softcore channels in the crappy hotel rooms.”

“ _Schwein_!” she snapped, and fired. Steve lunged while Phil darted for his pistol. Steve’s bulk knocked Sin to the ground, and he wrestled the gun from gloved hands, his knee in her back as he flipped her to her stomach.

“Please tell me you have zipties,” Steve panted, and Phil obliged him, locking Sin’s wrists behind her back. She squirmed, swearing at them in German, but Phil took her Walther and tucked it into his jacket. “You hurt?”

“She grazed me,” he said, wincing. “I really liked this jacket.”

Natasha stuck her head out. “There you two are. We’ve got nine operatives being led out. Sin locked down?”

“She is now,” Steve said. “Can you send the medics? Phil’s been shot.”

“Will do,” she said, speaking into her throat mic. Pepper poked her head out and paled.

“Oh my god, Phil.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as it looks, Virginia,” Phil began, but she was already bustling him to a bench and getting his jacket off.

She put pressure on the graze, and it was beginning to clot by the time the medics got there. Sin was carted off, and Phil chuckled, his arm stitched and bandaged. It was a shallow wound, and Steve knew he’d gotten off lightly.

Fury swept in, fixing Phil with a censored glare, but Steve stood in front of him, arms folded.

“You knew Sin was going to show?” he asked.

“Not Sin, specifically. Our contact indicated high level HYDRA.” Fury looked them both over. “You two work well together.”

“That’s why you had me bid,” Phil said, his tone reasonable. “About that.”

“I already heard,” Nick said with a sigh. “Really, Coulson? Three quarters of a million?”

“It was for charity.”

“A couple hundred thousand I could understand, but you’ve blown both the 2015 _and_ the 2016 budget,” he said. Phil looked sheepish.

“I can pay for it,” he offered.

“You’re not blowing your 401k, I don’t care how much you want the date,” Nick said. Steve opened his mouth to argue with Fury, but Pepper stood, stepping smoothly between them.

“I think I can resolve this to everyone’s satisfaction,” she said, smiling. “Since my husband has decided to make tasteless remarks concerning Agent Coulson’s intentions with his date, the various charities this was to support will undoubtedly consider that a breach of agreement. So Stark Industries will pay the cost instead, making an anonymous donation in the amount of five million dollars. The other party goers will of course be reimbursed if they wish, but as they’re New York elite and would hate to be seen as stingy, I doubt that will be a problem.”

“Virginia,” Phil started, but she turned around and hushed him, hugging him around the neck and whispering in his ear. Steve was the only one who caught what she said.

_“You’re too important and I almost lost you again. Take the date and have fun. I know how much you talked him up.”_

Phil was a little pink when she pulled back, but he squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. Thank Tony. He’s the one paying for it.”

“Paying for what?” Tony asked, wandering onto the balcony.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Pepper said, leading him away.

Fury and Natasha followed to oversee cleanup. No one besides Phil was injured, it looked like, and Steve breathed a little sigh of relief.

“You okay?” he asked, checking on Phil for himself.

“Peachy,” Phil said. “Just going to be a little stiff when I get home.”

He stood, and Steve shrugged off his jacket, tucking it over Phil’s shoulders. He blinked up at him, and Steve smiled.

“Walk you home?”

Phil smiled back. “Sure.”

“So about this date…” Steve slid an arm around Phil’s waist as they strolled to the elevator. “Do I get to pick if there’s a second one?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, Capsicoulers, I spent most of the night doodling on this. C:


End file.
